


Satellite Mind

by hiza-chan (callunavulgari)



Category: Legend of Zelda: The Ocarina of Time
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-20
Updated: 2012-04-20
Packaged: 2017-11-03 23:39:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/387251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callunavulgari/pseuds/hiza-chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Would you like a lullaby, Sheik? she asks, her lips pressed to the cool porcelain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Satellite Mind

**Author's Note:**

> Music Meme; Satellite Mind - Metric.
> 
> Hold it, I'm about to drop off  
> Let me tell you my last thought  
> Drift into a deep fog  
> Lost where I forgot to hold it  
> I can feel you most when I'm alone

He doesn't remember much, afterward.  
  
Link had started forward, startled, and he'd smiled behind the mask- started to say, "I don't want to go." It had never made it past his lips, his body surrendering itself to it's rightful owner. He'd thought, _but I didn't tell him_ and Zelda had smiled, said, _I'll let him know._  
  
It's a void, white space stretching out endlessly. Most days, he doesn't know who he is. What he is. Everything is one absentminded blur of memories and half heard melodies; the ghostly strumming of a lyre that mixes with the static buzz of nothing. He thinks the notes sound lonely.  
  
Sometimes, he hears things. Echoes of thought that aren't memories, golden threads that weave about him in a nonsensical pattern. _Zelda_.  
  
He cannot close his eyes, because in this state of nothing, he does not have them. He is nothing and everything at once, the god of his own barren world. He exists solely for the butterfly quick flashes of life he gets from the other side. Zelda, in her coronation gown- lovely and ethereal poised before the mirror, as if saying _How do I look?_ Link, covered in mud and sprawled out across the deep green grass of the ranch, a blade of grass tucked in the corner of his lips. Sensation, of something that he had never experienced.  
  
Sheik wonders why he still exists. If this is perhaps Zelda's mind. If maybe Zelda is the one keeping him alive.  
  
_You are me and I am you,_ she thinks quietly. She has the covers pulled past her chin like she is a young girl again, muttering the words into the silken sheets. Sheik feels that touch of cloth as if it were him, the way her lips twitch into a smile and the way her fingers grasp, stretching, for the ocarina at her bedside.  
  
_Would you like a lullaby, Sheik?_ she asks, her lips pressed to the cool porcelain.  
  
The lyre doesn't sound quite so lonely, now.


End file.
